"iridescence" poems
I'm transparent like a window
but I'm prone to keeping curtains closed
to cover up my youthful,
aching, naked soul.
I used to be promiscuous;
my essence on my sleeve.
a charming laugh; a crystal glass
from which many a fool drew drink.
A chalice of life;
warm like cinnamon wine,
soft like angel's delight.
Beheld by every eye.
But it never felt right;
I was smoke off a fire,
yet still smouldering coal.
Just a young, beautiful
byproduct of desire.
There's no smoke without fire.
Although, I tried to fan it cool;
the flames ran only wilder.
But as the old wind blows, it seems
a withered tree still grows new leaves.
A dandelion spreads its seeds
but they lie far away from me.
Now, I move transcluently-
ultraviolet invisible ink-
I speak in soothing whispers;
they travel further than you'd think.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
A - the atrocity that my life has become
D - the damage, and still, im not done
D - the denial, the doom in the vile, dangerous, daunting; forever defile
I - the image I fake of myself, I- my constant &chronic; bad health.
C- the cost of a chemical wealth.
T for the tension, paranoia and fear. Yet it’s the letter that symbols it’s here.
I - irrational, insensible, intense. I - irresistible iridescence .
O- for the option that I didn’t take, O for the others that still I forsake.
And N for nervous. Nauseous. Night. N, the neophyte, turned narcissist knight.
Transparent to everyone, how its hold is too true
So clear its invisible, Addiction did coo:
“when you wake and feel my crave,
and all my charms different behave;
resistance, strength, pain & choice,
may mute my spell, quiet my voice.”
“embrace what little light is shed” suggested addiction, faintly he said:
“For I can **** the best man dead,
with only shadows in their head.”
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 1:01 AM UTC
we leave the crumbs of our breakfast
on the windowsill, where we can watch
the ants arrive, and carry them away,
to their hills at the base of the maple trees.
they can't talk to us, but we can sense
their tiny gratitudes.
skin against skin, and tongues against
tongues, the glow from our faces is just
enough for the moths to recognize, for
them to want to dance around our heads.
they bask in the light of our love, and we
know they feel it too.
i live to see you smile, the kind of smile
that shines so brightly, like the way a leaf
beetle's shell does, when the sun decides
to hit it in a way that's exactly right.
they don't notice their iridescence, or how
perfect they are.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 3:17 AM UTC
In her dream, a cataract torrent
Crashes to effervescence,
Force and verve, vivacious apparent,
Shoots arrowed iridescence.
In reality, a rivulet meanders,
Blind to mountain, fountain and fell,
Downhill she flows, barely seen,
Pebbles 'n stones part of her scene.
Here she circumvents boulder and rock,
There gives way to shout and shock,
Hiding her head between her knees
She longs to lose herself in the seas.
I knelt down close to hear her cries,
Allowed her tears wash over my eyes,
Caressed her soft water with my hand,
Sprinkled her sweetness o'er the land.
'Sweet stream', I whisper'd, 'The waterfall you dream,
Lives through its awful roar ‘n terror,
But life lives not in its awesome scream,
Life lives not in its horror.'
'Without you, doe could not parch their thirst,
Frogs would not breed or dippers immerse.
Heavenly daughter, jeweled traverse,
One silent ripple is an angel's universe.’
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
"Run your pulse across my tongue
Pour your love into me
I thirst for you"......
Veils of gossamer silk
Spin in shades of night
Submissive acquiescence
Smoulders bare feet ...
Iridescence dances in captivated eyes,
Lips full
Releasing,
Breath
Licking the shimmer-gleam,
Anointing skin
Ravishing enchantment...
He trembles her heat
Scorching flesh wrapped bone;
Joining fantasies played against silky thighs
Arousing,
Capturing her allure;
Seductively
Manipulating the tenderness of her need ...
Night drips beauty from a silvern moon,
Nakedness meets
Open desire
Firm against softness
His lips seeking,
Tasting
Vanilla tears
Melting on his tongue like snowflakes
Touching passion's fire...
Fingertip moments
Pulsing rhythms;
Aching depths craving
Urgency
Sinking into moist folds
Undulating movements
Swollen, locked around a flowing pearl...
Mesmerising connections sparkle,
Thrusts
Gasp breathlessly,
Arching into body quivers;
Nails claw the spine
Symbolic...
She is
Weakness to his will........
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
& if I held you to my ear I could feel your heartbeat, slow and content with my hand on your chest (speeding up as it moves down, down)
I could feel the softness of your skin, turned the deep pink of a blushing girl—the sun's work— and holding the heat of that close star's burning tendrils
I could feel movement in your muscles as your arm curls around my waist lazily, an afterthought, like it's a natural instinct to pull me tighter in your sleep
I could feel shivers on my bony spine while you kiss iridescence behind my eyes in the way your lips press where my jaw meets my neck
I could feel an utter wholeness that I've missed for so long
Except—
Except——
Except———
You're too far away, a distance that even the "phone call" between the ocean and the little child pressing the shell against her ear cannot fix
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Sometimes
I feel a well
dug deep
into my heart
I try to stop it
but it quickly
becomes ocean
and overflows
into great tsunami
rises over all the levees
rushes past dams
breaks down tall
city structures,
edifices crumbling
in its path
all the squid and octopi
skitting forth
in wild pulses,
tentacles entangled
in doorways and rooves
slipping through narrow
window-openings
as they pour ink
in clouds,
shifting shapes
in cephalopod excitement
while blue whales
and humpbacks
breach over bridges,
phosphorescent jellies
light up
the dark streets of
my arteries
electric eels illuminate
the alleyways of
desolation's thick syrup
and I cannot stop it even
if I wanted to,
these darkened,
swirling waves
I am both floating and flying
like a jumping manta ray
curling around the ferries
bobbing in seahorse iridescence
weaving between buses
as if they were corals
And when the storm subsides,
colorful rockpools form,
rich in diversity
It is there,
in between the
multicolored ***** and
succulent shellfish,
in a mermaid's
voluptuous smile
and turquoise eye
that I see you,
so crystal clear
I could reach out
and bring you to me,
holding you tight
until the
gentle break
of
morning
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC
Once upon a time, Oh but that’s such a boring way to start-
Once upon a time.
I was little red riding hood that knowingly stepped
onto the wrong side of the path,
Hoping that a monster in the woods
would come and get me, but you-
A hurricane,
car crashes in slow motion,
personified heartbreak-
Too much.
Too much applesauce madam? The waiter asked, clean-shaven face bathed
In the New York skyline, ignorant to the gunfire explosions
inside me as I waited for you.
No thank you, sir.
“Meet me at the station”,
scrawled in messy, love- stained letters
In between the railway roars and the clatters of foreign accent, you've flaked again, like the struck chord of a bass
Signifying disappointment like a punch line
Reverberating through my skull.
Okay, repeat the mantra, one-two-steady-
Okay. It's Okay.
Four weeks later
I had your body pushed up flush against bricks and-
No shut up you don’t get to say anything after you go and shatter me like that
You’re sick do you know that? Lips snarling, heart breaking.
You’re sick.
So maybe I was the big bad wolf after all.
Stairwell bricks glinted off iridescence and
your mouth in that sad, sad laugh
Studying me like a dream brought
to the ground,
Puffy lipped and eyes blown wide like I was on some psychedelic high-
And you said
*“You’re still a child with fanciful ideas of love, and the way you cling onto them-
Quite frankly, it’s terrifying.”*
Please darling, let me redefine myself
Skip the pleasantries and small talk,
scrap the story of little red riding hood-
Once upon a time, I was apology and you were forgiveness
I can imagine inside you, of alarm bells and sunken souls
as you listen to the static white noise of
A dying heart
Hello darling, are you there? Can you hear me? Is this mic working?
I hate to sound like those magazine cut outs-
I hate to sound like,
Just another lover, just another cliché-
But you were the matchstick to my dynamite
and nothing feels better
Than my own self- destruction, so won’t you please
Another chance? No?
Even Lucifer sometimes longs to be let
Into the gates of heaven again
I’ve cooked some apology,
I saved a plate for you
So for the love of god come inside and have some before it goes cold.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
A falling feather on the breeze,
lilting like the Seraphim
songs of Mephistopheles,
lured her drunkenly to him.
Lilting like the Seraphim,
she drank his iridescence. He
lured her drunkenly to him,
enraptured in naivety.
She drank his iridescence. He
befouled her virtue, was the air.
Enraptured in naivety
no more, would Eden hear her prayer?
Befouled; her virtue was the air
he stole away, a hunched-up thief.
No more would Eden hear her prayer -
the echoes howling his motif.
He stole away, a hunched-up thief,
a fallen feather on the breeze;
the echoes howling his motif -
songs of Mephistopheles.
Footnote: Passages from folk lore:
Hindu - the peacock is said to have angels' feathers, a devil's voice
and the walk of a thief
Chinese - a girl who looks at a peacock could become pregnant
Islamic: the peafowl carried Satan into the Garden of Eden after consuming him
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC
I envied the cadavers haunting my nightmares,
watching those before me
spread upon a metal slab
bodies are hand-me-downs of regurgitated poetry,
with wretched closets in which I take their place.
This ventilator called "loved ones"
forcing breath into anguished lungs-
tragedies belonging to these poets meant something,
a desire to save the words written,
but never the one who becomes a eulogy.
Agony burrows inside of me,
conversations with my mother's ghost
still,
the living are possessed by
the dead's shortened tomorrows.
To die by suicide wouldn't give,
authenticity to hurt.
I am learning the autopsy of a soul:
extracting a heart from the chest,
as it's sense of belonging was never there.
An inability to weigh the words bleeding from valves,
aside lungs I'm unable to breathe through.
How ungrateful is it of sorrow to ask for hope?
placed in a pill divider to swallow,
muscles within my throat so tight.
Wondering,
How many times did I diminish my voice?
Inside the brain,
schematics of labyrinths with no end to betterment.
Surgeons reach for a soul,
an iridescence small enough
held in a gloved palm,
watching it writhe.
Placed upon a slide,
but even a microscope
cannot perceive the pain a soul hides.
Once more,
stitched with needle and thread.
Wilting of my own garden,
comes one day-
an incision is made opening me up.
My heart showed the same
blood-red ink, writing apologies
on the marble floor.
They opened my arm,
displaying a noose of veins.
In this moment,
they removed my soul
only to gift it to another
birthed from torment
ripped out of the arm's of their mother
& into the embrace of woe.
—V.H.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC
the sun dies gently behind the hills as I
wander through the pastel cloud’s apricot-nuance
with floating eyes of vacant iridescence.
and the sky lost all of its mighty blue,
now glimmering in a nonchalantly lilac hue
one could only describe as the universe spilled passion.
darkness manifests on the canvas of atmosphere,
its golden streaks devoured by mischievous glee
and we all sigh and finally close our eyes.
so that this journey remains all that we see.
© fey (08/04/21)
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
. IF I WERE A POET
The
First stanza
would be a
magnatic attic captivating
Elegant architects of
iridescence
Vividly
propelling pupils to edges
Of the schleras
Compelling pens to pages
of new eras
IF I WERE A POET
The
Second
Stanza would
Mirror Zues's
spear slicing through
tears drowning in clouds
striking fields of pens
Egniting the
capsules of
Variegated
Lands
IF I WERE A POET
The
Last stanza
would sail summers
tame winters bathe in
springs of autumn praise
deeds of the monarchs
reigning over raining
rainbows nurturing the
clouds planting wings on
the ground giving free will
to plants to seed the sky
with warmth and love
of nature's heart.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
Flash of a camera goes off and I rush into the shadows, because the picture will look all wrong if I am in it.
Conversations circle my head aimlessly, all connected by a single thread that has slipped from my grasp.
A game of cards that I watch from the sidelines.
Memories are made in front of me and I cannot have a slice of them—they are not mine.
I was there, but they are not mine.
Because you smile when I wave
and I laugh at jokes that I don’t fully understand
and we complain, compliment, communicate,
but you are a stranger to me.
I am a stranger to you.
You, polished jade stone in vicious waters,
yet the waves yield to you
and your iridescence
and all of your beautiful stone companions. I am a pebble who gets caught
in the tide, too desolate to swim back to shore, too afraid to join you in the deep.
I cannot stop fighting the current.
There is no hope for me if I do,
for I will sink, settle on the sandy floor with my back arched and my hands shaking
and join my fellow forsaken, solidified into a gritty brick of aching bones and broken spirits.
I will no longer be your burden. I will be something you do not bother to look at twice.
You will float above me with nothing to haunt you.
But even as I am fighting the current all my life
I am still dissolving
bit by bit.
As though I am destined to fade away no matter how hard I try to stay.
Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
Night comes
r
o l l i
n g
down again
in painted coats
of thick onyx
clouding my vision
as if a brightly-striped
cuttlefish,
sister of squid
has enveloped me
in its
dark liquid
sea ink
an opaque vapor
for protection,
a shimmering
sheild against
disillusionment
pain of potential
loss
endless strands
of longing
knotting in my
hair like kelp
keeping me rooted
to the sea floor,
feet ensconced in
the soft squish
of muck and earth
Miraculously,
I breathe,
as if a sea nympth,
a mermaid
holding on to
the silvery scales
of her reality
indigo-dipped
in deepest iridescence
blending with fronds
of vibrant greens
and I am floating
within a vast membrane
of brine
somehow nuturing,
liquid cushion
of womb-water
letting it slake
the piquancy of thirst
that bursts my tongue
into succulence
Spiked in sea stars
like thorny crowns,
I reach out to
discover new textures
puncture the dark
with my fingers
enfold those waters
to me,
letting them
rock the soul
of my soul
the heart
of the seed
of my heart
and allow my
sonar, as powerful
as a whale's
encompassing call
to surge up
through nautical miles
of ocean depths,
buoyed through layers
of waves
up unto
the winds
that ride,
ever-tenderly,
the surface
of
the
dawn
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
*he was riding a beamer breezer
into the thick foggy Red Mist
along a steep rising road
that seemingly ceased to exist
having relished the taste of elixir
intoxication elevated his state of mind
inebriated with exuberance of life
on stairway to heaven he drove blind
he wanted to ride fast and free
though his mind was strangled
his body refused to be tied up
in a life cord entangled
soon he experienced an impact
deafening his senses, the slumber's fang
eyes closed in sombre sleep but he
crossed the great divide across the big bang
he saw many a glittering diamonds
cuboids of tempered glass in shards
glittering with iridescence against the dark
a tarry sky filled with shattered stars
It seemed like a surreal dream
his body felt light like its floating
amidst the heavenly constellation of orion
saw he, the betelgeuse with ruddiness exploding
the mystic dream faded away
awakened to eternal life with closed eyes
rung down the curtain he joined the choir
mother nature singing him a lullaby*
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Misty moonlight falls on dancing waters
Shimmers as it plays
Lights the fall of a gauntlet’s challenge
Called the sunrise
Of the day
Straining beams of iridescence quietly appear
Changing in a glow
Accumulating dust from a starlight’s sphere
A brilliant sparkling
From long ago
A splash of velvet is the midnight sky
Cradling our moon
Softly singing the sweetest lullaby
Knowing the challenge
Is ending soon
Streaks of crimson, fiery red appear
Across the velveteen
The moonlight's dancing end is near
As the sun again
Is seen
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 9:01 PM UTC
made me
So horney and gifted
I lifted a tune
Which lit the moon
now your waters obey me
Bath me with light
my imperfect iridescence
to slither through fertile crescent
Such twisted insight
yet adorned in the shadow of night
This hunger for mor ning
star
my clandestine appetite.
I wander not lost
but sea rching,
est u aries mi
Jane tap sap
Sens u al it y
because I lick you
and your
***** pha lang ease
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
I watched the sky transform
Overhead,
As the sun set
It flourished more than ever.
I watched in awe
As it changed colour,
The clouds shed its white washed skin
And boasted an undulating opalescence
Of pink and lilac,
Soft like candyfloss,
I felt compelled to reach up
And sink my teeth into it,
Only to let the rain fall
Onto my lips and seep
Into my skin.
I traced the clouds
To the horizon,
Where fiery hues of
Orange burned bright
Like wildfire,
An irresistible iridescence
That filled my belly with
An inferno
Not even the Seven Seas
Could tame.
Before long,
The stars filtered through
The kaleidoscopic creation,
Illuminating the Universe
Like the London Skyline.
I pick one amongst the
Palette of scattered clouds
And wish that I can witness
This masterpiece
The same time tomorrow
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
Verse 1:
The one that I long for,
The malady for which my heart ails,
You’re an infectious boil inflaming my very soul.
A toxic love slowly consumes my eyes,
Where have you gone, I’ve been blinded by the truth.
The butterflies of my youth have collapsed into naught.
The Universe weeps to me in her legion tears of the stars;
She sings to me a requiem of an unrequited love.
I have faith that you’re out there, my orchid of blossoming love,
I want to feel you effloresce as golden thread connects our souls.
Chorus:
The boon of my youth, has He veiled me in ebony wings?
Has the moon abandoned the sanctity of an everlasting youth?
Please glimmer upon me,” I long to set you free!”
There is a divine vessel inside of me, oh, He longs for a sacred love.
Verse 2:
I know that Gaia, that beauteous and earthen Goddess;
She smiles down upon me as I quiver beneath the Earth.
I’ve retreated to the underworld and there are clouds beneath the ground,
They take the form of a lover whose face I cannot make out.
The heavens have been concealed from me and I fear that I’ve been deceived;
Is it wrong to wish upon a star for someone to enamor me?
Chorus:
The boon of my early years, has He veiled me in ebony wings?
Has the moon abandoned the sanctity of an everlasting youth?
Please glimmer upon me,” I long to set you free!”
There is a divine vessel inside of me;
He longs for a sacred love.
Bridge:
I pray that iridescence will envelop my weary soul,
Maybe cosmic glitter will fall upon tired skin.
My body is immaterial; I sweat and cry tears of blood.
Maybe tribulation will flourish into love.
The cosmos lies inside me and my heart is shining blue,
It shall illuminate the pathways that will lead me to your heart.
Chorus:
The boon of my early years, has He veiled me in ebony wings?
Has the moon abandoned the sanctity of an everlasting youth?
Please glimmer upon me,” I long to set you free!”
There is a divine vessel inside of me;
He longs for a sacred love.
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 3:08 AM UTC
She whispers to heaven
No rainbows dampened
Young souls tossing
Pearl birds
Planet full of color
A purple myriad
Rejoicing iridescence
Whisper tears
Rustic turquoise
Revived sunlight
Fountain of harvest
Seas hypnotize
Goodbye twilight bliss
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 6:40 AM UTC
HUGE W A L L S
overlook
the
future....
timeline tunnels blocked--
Pink Floyd wasn;t kidding
about THE W A L L S....
But a HUGE hug hangs
the stone mental blockade
on the gallows under a crescent moon
while gypsies cheer with tambourines and
artists draw with the ashes from their cigarettes
and
writers jot down the joyous carnival mood between shots
Chinese lanterns and Ramadan Fanous
illuminate the b r i d g es
brrrrrrrrighter
iridescence and
swinging
with misfits dripping anticipation
spinning sufis swaying
to see the mural landscape opposite THE W A L L S.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
love or lust
“I cannot tell a lie”
As I lie
Laying
being beneath you
forcing my light feminine weight above
the sun to your sky
it’s all the same
i feel false i do not feel
you compliment my waist,
my laugh;
my witty repetitoire
riles you—
a true Napoleon in this pint-sized frame
they call me pretty
I yearn to be more
you are leaving and I am numb
maybe I learn to forget
opal iridescence in my free-spirited eyes
dance once
you are gone
I scream to no one,
“must I be alone
to be my own?”
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 9:47 AM UTC
Fire Agate
Rendered at last,
with seamless lines
of every shade
and layer on top of layer
As we know,
one burning tree
can set
it's forest aglow
and so came her soul
with fire's inside
But with fire comes chaos
Birches chirp
for consequential change
for her edge's
to chip away
Then a Maple
, through sweet rustles,
asks for more
Willows fume
fatal wishes
for the forest
to surrender,
for water over embers
A Cypress follows
, with deep concern,
and begs to stand
Ashes whisper
for another
just one more day
But an Elm
seeks that same color
but within her
and to stay
It's dangerous to dance
with this many tree's
"One day,
maybe I'll break,
and maybe someone,
maybe you,
will see
between the waves
that meet at peak,
that fold into another,
see why the cold sky
shy's behind the hot sun
but are drawn together,
see below the clear surface
that deceives
by gifting you assumptions,
see how clear agate
over hematite
gives you iridescence,
see beyond the points
we know,
and please see
where a circle stops.
Maybe you'll see
what I can't
, me"
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 9:51 AM UTC
I look at the fairy,
And think to myself,
"I cannot comprehend how much love she pours into something.
I cannot fathom creating constellations to help her surmount her obstacles,
For she has created her own to guide her."
And here I am, sitting under an olive tree,
Watching her twirl and slip through the flimsy canopy of the forest.
Sorry Hercules, Cerberus has already been slain.
Not by us; but by her own magical knight in shining armour.
It's strange how jealous I am,
Yet I feel no envy or regret.
Okay, maybe a slight fragment of regret;
But don't worry pal, Cerberus won't be emerging from my dark depths.
It's almost like she refracts the stars' rays and creates her own iridescence.
Such a spectacular sight.
That I cannot caress nor look at for too long,
I may go blind.
And apparently love is blind.
The irony.
Well, no matter; I can still relax here on the soil,
And remain calm for she isn't going anywhere.
Right?
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
You may believe in your fictitious destitution,
You may be adrift in your false desolation,
You may be wandering a path of solitude,
And you may be drowning in ignorance.
I am occasionally condemned as such.
Our isolation like a xerox.
Synonymous of withdrawal into one's self.
Not uncommon, even cherished.
Individuality becomes enveloped.
Becoming our own worst enemies,
Among a sea of monochromes.
Exposed complexion,
Defined blush,
Vulnerable iridescence.
Recognize a promise to identity.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC